Having left the rural beauty of Firbeck Cum Letwell I spent the first
few weeks based in the industrial, down town parish of Milnsbridge,
Huddersfield (the home parish of ex. Prime minister, Harold Wilson)
questioning whether I had really done the correct thing. Could it be
that I had made one terrible mistake? But then, one damp, depressing
morning, complete with cape and cassock, I decided to sample the local
shopping centre which was way down in a hollow. Then, on passing the
gaunt mills on my return homewards I came to the foot of a steep street,
after having crossed a canal bridge. And there I found a young, rather
poorly clad boy approaching me with eyes all aglow and a shopping bag in
his hand. His eyes were fixed on me as he appeared to query: "Is he or
isn't he?" "Yes, I know where you've come from!" he said. Then, after
gently touching my garb, he pointed his finger upwards to the sky. His
face all radiant, he stated: "You have come from up there!"

Before I could say anything he simply made his way round me to
further his journey, while glimpsing back with absolute joy. Somehow, I
never recognized such a youngster again - even though nine years within
that parish were to follow. But, to myself, he had been a veritable
angel sent from God! Yes, I knew that I was where the Lord wanted me to
minister.

A Further Sign From God

Indeed, as if that were not sufficiently a sign in itself, within a
few months another unmistakable confirmation followed, this time via the
Huddersfield evening newspaper. For splashedacross the headlines
came reference to two localities bordering on the Pennine moors where
dogs lived out in the open all year round, chained to an extension of
wire; and each night they retired into respective wooden barrels; their
only shelter from the blizzards and the snow.

Such dogs were being used to deter sheep from wandering out from the
bleak moors - yet the erection of cattle grids would surely have served
the purpose as good! The exposers of this barbaric practice were a
delightful young lady and her wonderful uncle. Both of them, devout
animal carers, yet limited in knowing what they could do to bring this
practice to an end - the RSPCA having shown minimum concern - they had
taken it upon themselves to notify the press. Well, I suppose that in
contrast with their daily feeding and befriending of these dogs, my
efforts were minimal. I simply visited the sites. And knowing that 'the
pen is mightier than the sword,' I wrote up to the paper commending the
compassion and care this girl and her uncle had shown to defenceless
creatures. Consequently, the top publicity that followed proved enough
to terminate the whole nasty business.

Through this delightful young lady and her caring uncle I also made
the acquaintance of other animal activists and carers. Meetings were
frequently attended and the inauguration of an annual animal blessing
service usually brought an encouraging response.